NGE: Nobody Dies: NERV Alaska: Aftermath
by Winged Knight
Summary: After the destruction of NERV 4, questions have been asked. What exactly happened up in Alaska? Two men seek to answer this. Will they be able to uncover the truth behind the death of their friend, or will they fall prey to the same fate?
1. Hidden Agendas and Old Friends

I was inspired to write this after reading the exploits of Nerv Alaska, written by AMIADREAM. That story is based in the same universe as Gregg Landsman's story, Neon Genesis Evangelion: Nobody Dies. They're both excellent and I recommend reading them.

This is the first time I've ever really written anything like this, kind of a combination of detective and spy genre. I'm fairly proud of it, but I know it's not my best. I've stuck mainly in the genre of fantasy. Still, doing this is a neat experiment and I'm glad AMIADREAM gave me permission. I believe it goes without saying, but I don't own Evangelion or the two works mentioned above. So without further ado, I present NERV Alaska: Aftermath.

* * *

NERV Alaska: Aftermath

Hidden Agendas and Old Friends

It had been almost a month since NERV Alaska was destroyed in a destructive event that, according to satellite imagery, resembled a smaller version of Second Impact. All the area above ground, and the first lower layer after they had cleared some of the rubble, had been examined carefully. Which, of course, also meant slowly. While it is known by those with enough clearance that Antarctica is safe enough to visit it doesn't mean that the scene should be handled carelessly. After all, would every impact have the same events occur? Would the after effects be consistent? The truth of the matter was that disasters of this nature had never occurred often enough for a reliable study to be made on it, so it had to be handled with care. Which is why, after almost a month, a preliminary report was compiled. Doctor Jack Lawson, being the head of research and development at NERV 3, would be one of the few men in the world to receive a copy of this report. Indeed, he has been reading it for the last hour.

"This is a crock," he muttered to himself as he threw the thing on his desk. He sighed and leaned his head back in his comfortable, padded leather chair. Doctor Lawson was, for all intents and purposes, a bit of a hedonist. His office reflected this. His desk was made of beautiful, polished red oak. Considering the rise in water levels had flooded the East Coast this made such a desk a fair amount more expensive than it used to be. His floor was covered in a magnificent Persian style rug of intricate design. Bookshelves lined the walls of the room, filled to the brim with old books of numerous subjects, some of which had only a few copies in the world. On his desk was a gold and silver chased pen, which rested delicately on a stand. Next to it was a bowl filled with candy, which Dr. Lawson reached a hand into and popped into his mouth as he let his mind wander. There were other papers on the desk that demanded his attention, but he honestly didn't care. Those could wait while he dealt with this.

He ran a hand through his thinning red hair and rested another on his, admitably, round stomach. He was trying to think objectively on the report, but his thoughts kept drifting toward one thought in particular. Dr. Mondschein was dead. Dream, one of his oldest and best friends, was dead. He had known the man since college, had engaged in all sorts of rivalries and extraordinary hijinks as they tested the boundaries of science. That man was dead, and his superiors honestly expected him to just accept what this report was implying? That Dream had run an experiment that had just gone out of control, killing himself and everyone under him?

"Bastards don't know a damn thing about him," he growled as he chewed on the hard candies. "Dream would never be so careless!"

He pushed himself forward, steepling his hands under his chin. His green eyes stared out at nothing, focusing inward rather than outward. He couldn't let this stand. He had to find out more about what had happened, for the security of NERV 3 and in the memory of his friend. The only question was how. He suspected that SEELE was involved in this, somehow. The Old Men had fingers in everything, after all. If he made too many overt moves to look into it be knew that he would have his movements restricted at best. At worst he might wake up one morning with a bullet in his brain. He had access to Section 2 agents, but even those who he knew personally could be compromised. SEELE would find a way, most likely through threatening the families of the agents. The Old Men were ruthless.

Dr. Lawson found himself distracted by other friends he knew, alive and dead. There were, unfortunately, far too many on the other list. But as he did, an idea rose in his head. He had another old friend of his who might be able to help him, though the man would probably not be happy to see him. He picked up his phone.

"Hello, Commander? I was thinking I should take up some of the vacation time I've built up. Been working a little too much lately."

ooooo

Marcus Roland was not having a good day. He was walking the windy streets of Chicago trying to find some lunch. At least, it had begun that way.  
He was tall, as these things were measured, six feet tall and fit, though not as fit as he used to be. He didn't gripe about that too much. He was pushing fifty and felt he was entitled to not have to work too much. Not that he ever really had a chance to do that. The wind rustled his trench coat and made his short, wavy brown hair sway a bit. He found it refreshing to feel the wind over the hard angles of his face. He rubbed the stubble on his chin a bit and looked around surreptitiously.

His sharp brown eyes noted another one leaning on a street corner reading a newspaper. It was the little things that tipped him off. The way the man held himself, how he had one hand lower on the paper than the other. Lower so that he could reach his firearm more quickly. His stance, though seemingly relaxed, gave off little signs that he could burst into motion at the slightest instant. Only someone who had been trained to look for these signs would be able to really notice. The casual observer would be clueless.

That was the fifth one he had noticed so far, which confirmed that he was being herded somewhere. They knew that he knew, which meant they also knew that he knew there were more of them than he had noticed. So he played along. The last thing he needed was a sniper's bullet lodged in the back of his head.

Moving down the street, following the directions of the inconspicuous men, he eventually found himself at a little pizza place. He noticed the man sitting behind the window and groaned.

'_Great. Him.'_

Marcus made his way inside, standing in front of the seated man who smiled up at him. There was a large deep-dish pizza steaming in the middle of the table, two plates on either side of it.

"Hello there, Mark. It's been a long time. How's being a P.I. treating you?"

"Not long enough, Lawson. I distinctly recall saying that I never wanted to see you again."

"Mark…"

"Things were said when I quit that can't be unsaid, Lawson. Things said by you and by me. Grow up. We're not in college anymore and I don't have the patience to deal with your crap."

"Mark, if you would just listen…"

"No, I will not listen! You send out whatever new black ops NERV has to herd me out here and you expect me to be reasonable? Hell no, Lawson. God, you haven't changed at all."

"Dream's dead, Mark."

Marcus's jaw dropped. Eventually, after several minutes, he was able to find his voice. "What? How?"

Dr. Lawson motioned for him to sit. Marcus did so and put his face in his hands. The good doctor allowed him time to process the information. Marcus had been one of his best friends, once. He was a friend of Dream's too, and from what he knew the two had kept in touch some. They had been inseparable back in college, and it was usually Marcus who bailed them out of whatever insane scheme he and Dream had managed to cook up any given day of the week. He had been their anchor to reality, the rock that kept them steady. That had lasted well outside of college, and it had helped them all stay afloat during the chaos that was the Impact Wars.

Eventually Marcus spoke again. "How did it happen? I talked with him over the phone a little less than three months ago."

"Dream was the head of NERV Alaska, and he died when it exploded."

Marcus nodded. "I saw something about that on the news."

"Heavily edited, of course."

"Of course. I know how things work."

"You would, wouldn't you?" He said with a smile. "After all, you were only part of Gehirn's security and black ops for how long? Five years?"

"That's over and done with," Marcus growled. "Too many memories and too much bad blood."

"Mark, it wasn't your fault…"

"Shut up, we're not talking about that.'

Dr. Lawson sighed. "All right, Mark. I got a preliminary report that implies that Dream brought the whole thing on himself, but I don't buy it. I think SEELE's trying to cover something up. How much do you know about them?"

"Enough to know that I don't want to know too much. I don't need those guys looking in on me."

"Mark, don't be naïve. They probably already know everything about you."

"That's such a comforting thought. But yeah, Dream may have been crazy when he got in the mood, which was often, but he'd never be so careless with other people's lives."

"Exactly. I want to know what happened to him, but if I'm too overt about it then I'll be put down hard."

"What you're doing now isn't overt or strange?"

"Mark, I'm considered more than a little insane by my staff and superiors. It's practically a prerequisite for the higher-ranking positions in NERV's organization. Commandeering a few Section 2 agents to herd my grumpy friend into a pizza parlor I've taken over? It's hardly the strangest thing I've ever done. Remember the chicken incident in college?"

"Really haven't changed," Marcus mumbled as he took a slice of the pizza. It had everything on it, which was good. He was hungry. He took a bite out of it as the man in front of him did likewise with his own slice. He remembered the chicken incident, all right. His friend had tried to create a better, more efficient feed for chickens, to make them grow bigger and produce more food. Dream had thought the idea was brilliant, and he had to admit even he had been excited about the idea. What had actually happened was the creation of chickens the size of wolves, which then proceeded to take over the school. All three of them were lucky to avoid getting expelled for that one.

"So where do I fit in with this?" he asked after he had finished another slice.

"I want you to look into this. Any man I send in Section 2 may be compromised in some way, but I know you, Mark. You don't have any next of kin. There's nothing SEELE can leverage over you."

"Besides my life."

Dr. Lawson blinked. "Well, yes. There's always that."

Marcus let out a little sigh. He wanted to argue, but he already knew what he was going to do. There was no point in bandying it about. "I'll look into it. Dream was a friend. I want to do right by him. Still, how much do you expect me to be able to figure out all on my own?"

"More than we know now. Thank you for this, Mark. Really, thank you. Here, I'm giving you a journal of everything I know about NERV Alaska under the tablecloth. I don't trust the computers on base to make a digital copy of this. Mostly it's from memory. You never know who's going to be poking around in your network. Inside the journal is a communication device that only sends to one other just like it, which I own. It will hopefully allow us to communicate with each other in secret."

Marcus took the journal and stealthily snuck it into his trench coat. He could feel a vaguely phone like object under the cover, very thin and lightweight.

"All right then, I'll get to work. I'll keep you updated, but don't go thinking this makes up for what happened between us. I'm doing this for Dream, not you."

"Mark, how many times do I have to apologize? I didn't mean it!"

"Some things can't be unsaid, Lawson. What happened then, what was done afterward… I can't forget it."

Marcus stood up.

"Thanks for the pizza."

He stepped outside into the windy chill of Chicago and hunched his coat up a little more. As he walked back to his office to set up what he would need, only one thought crossed his mind.

'_The next few months are going to suck.'_


	2. Obscured Truth and Old Ghosts

You know, I'm honestly rather proud of myself. It's not because of the detail or plot, because in all honesty I've written better stuff on those angles. No, I'm kinda proud because I've gotten to the point where I can just sit down and write out over 4,000 words in one sitting. Before I used to do stuff in chunks, I just never had the discipline to just sit down and write, so this feels like an accomplishment for me.

Again, this was inspired by AMIADREAM's fantastic story, which is set in Gregg Landsman's fantastic story. If anyone here hasn't read either yet, they should.

* * *

NERV Alaska: Aftermath

Obscured Truth and Old Ghosts

_Marcus checked his clip, making sure his weapon had full ammunition. The other five men in the van were doing likewise, making sure that all their equipment was in order. They were all decked out in black clothing with bullet resistant vests covering the chest, back and stomach. Next to each was a helmet with a tinted visor. Their identities had to remain secret, after all._

_After making sure that his equipment was in order, their squad leader tapped his ear bud. Everybody else in the squad listened in through their own buds, but stayed silent as their leader spoke._

"_This is ground team, do you read me command?"_

"_We read you, ground team. We've just finished intercepting the enemy's communications. We know where their superiors are now."_

"_So what do we need with these bastards?"_

"_These idiots stole Gehirn secrets and killed two of our guys getting out. We don't need them alive."_

_Their squad leader smiled. "That's good. I was feeling insulted letting these dipshits breathe my air."_

"_You are all go, ground team. Proceed at will."_

"_You heard em, boys! Helmet up, we're going in."_

_The back doors of the van opened up, letting the six of them out. They were not in the best neighborhood, all things considered. Graffiti covered some of the walls and sidewalks, but for the most part they weren't gang symbols. It was more likely just kids with too much free time. The streets hadn't been cleaned recently, but then again that was a fairly common sight in a lot of places these days. The world was still feeling the after affects of the Impact Wars only so recently settled. It was twilight now, the sun setting fast. There were mostly small houses lining the streets, but a few taller apartments also stood out. It was toward one of these the men made their way to. Marcus was on point._

_He kicked open the door and moved quickly to the side, bringing his weapon up. There weren't any hostiles. He waved for the rest of the team to enter._

"_Groups of two," their leader said quietly. "Fan out and find these dead men."_

_One group stayed on the bottom floor, going through the doors. Marcus and another group made their way up the stairs. An unkempt young man, mid twenties at the most, was going down the stairs when he saw them._

"_Jesus!" he screamed before pulling out a pistol. Marcus and his partner shot him twice each before he could pull the trigger, dropping him. They stepped over his quickly. The element of surprise was gone now, so they had to move quickly. _

_The second group stayed and searched the second floor, leaving Marcus and his partner to go up to the third. The apartment was only five stories, not including the roof. The plan was that the group on the first would check the fourth floor while they searched the third, and the group on the second would check the fifth. That left the roof to Marcus's group when they were finished with the third._

_The building was, for the most part, completely abandoned. The rooms they opened were almost all empty, one or two having some older occupants that just screamed but didn't leave their rooms. They weren't about to get in the way of armored men with guns._

_Marcus kicked open a door and was greeted by two shots to his armor. He growled and dove for cover. There were two hostiles in the room, one next to the window and another behind a couch for cover. Marcus's partner engaged the one behind the couch, keeping the enemy under and working his way closer. His assailant would be dealt with in just a few seconds. This left Marcus with the other one._

_The man by the window snarled and reached behind his belt. It wasn't a gun he pulled, however, but rather two grenades. Marcus's eyebrows shot up from behind his visor._

"_Grenades!" he shouted as he hit the man three times in the chest and once in the throat. He was too late, however. The man had already pulled the pins. He stumbled back as if drunk, careening into the window and shattering it. The grenades slipped from his hands and fell down below._

"_Oh dammit, no!"_

_Marcus ran toward the window, trying vainly to reach for the falling explosives. His partner cursed and hauled him back inside. Marcus couldn't see their continued descent then, but he knew where they would land. He had seen it outside and when he had looked out the window. He knew they were going to land right outside the yellow painted, brightly lit house that was next to the apartment building. Seconds later there was an explosion, and then there were screams._

ooooo

Marcus woke with a start, clutching his head and breathing heavily. It took him a moment to orientate himself. He knew where he was. He was resting next to a tree covered up in a blanket as a light snowfall drifted from the sky. Still, it took him several minutes to make his heart stop pounding.

He hadn't had that dream in years. He thought he had managed to put that behind him, for the most part. Now he wasn't so sure. His meeting with Lawson must have jarred him more than he thought, especially with the news of Dream's death. Perhaps instead of getting over those events of so many years ago he had merely repressed them?

"Dammit, Roland," he muttered to himself. "Get your head in the game. No time for ghosts. Deal with that later."

He shifted out of the white blanket and pulled out a pair of high-powered binoculars. He made his way to the top of the hill in front of him and looked out. A mile ahead rested his objective, the ruins of NERV Alaska.

The place was, to put it in the best terms, almost completely destroyed. The entire upper facility had pretty much caved in, and from the way the ground was curved slightly inward he figured the first few lower levels weren't in much better condition. However, the fact that it wasn't just a huge hole in the ground meant that the lower layers might be relatively intact.

Marcus had been scouting the place for the past three days. A chain-link fence surrounded the ruins, and off to the side there was a small, cheap shack set up as shelter for the security. The experts that came in to inspect the wreckage didn't live on site. They drove in from a nearby town. They came in the early morning and left late afternoon, going through the wreckage carefully.

Marcus figured, from what he had seen, that there were about fifteen armed guards there for security. It wasn't the largest force, but it was enough to discourage the reporters and the scavengers. There were always two men at the gate entrances, their shifts changing every four hours. They never patrolled the woods, but Marcus had felt it better to err on the side of caution and stayed at least a mile away at all times.

Marcus had slept during the day in preparation. Tonight was the night he would make his move. As soon as the sun set he moved out. He had planned this carefully. There would be no moon out tonight, making him almost completely invisible in his black, almost skin-tight outfit. Around his waist he wore a black belt with several pouches, each filled with tools. He wore a holster under his arm where he kept a silenced, semi-automatic pistol that he really hoped he wouldn't have to use.

He made his way to the back of the facility. There were regular patrols around the base, but they only came by every half hour. After a little under a month the security had gotten a little lax, which was good for Marcus. He was all for anything that made this job easier.

He pulled out a small set of wire cutters and made a hole in the fence near the bottom, something small that would hopefully not be noticed until he was long gone. He slipped the cutters back into his belt and crawled through.

A way down had been cleared, but that wasn't where he was going. That way was almost assuredly under guard or surveillance. No, he was making his way toward one of the vents where the back of the facility had been. In the notes Lawson had given him there were also some blueprints of the upper levels. Marcus had spent hours going over these on his way up to Alaska. He only hoped that the damage done hadn't destroyed the vents.

He smiled as he saw the grate set a little ways out of the ground. It was still there. He pulled out a screwdriver and got the grate off. He set it off to the side and carefully pulled himself into it.

He felt uncomfortable as he shimmied at a gentle downward slope. This was a NERV base, even if it was wrecked. He knew one didn't just go into air vents in a NERV base. He had heard rumors, horrible, terrifying rumors about giggling monstrosities that crawled through the ducts of NERV 1 and abducted people to do who-knows-what to them. He could only hope that they didn't frequent other NERV bases as he crawled through this one.

It seemed whatever had destroyed the base had come up straight through the middle, leaving the sides mostly intact. It was different from an explosion, far too controlled in scope. He recalled that Lawson had said that what had happened was like a smaller version of Second Impact. Frankly, Marcus didn't have any idea what that meant. Oh, he knew that Antarctica had been destroyed and that it wasn't a meteor that had done it. He had known more of the specifics than most of the world had before ADAM had shown up again, but what exactly the glow in the dark abomination had done he wasn't sure about. That was unimportant, however. They knew what had happened, now they needed the why and the how.

After about thirty minutes of heading down Marcus kicked open one of the grates. He was in deeper than the search teams had gone before. They walls were intact, but the room was trashed. Marcus turned on his flashlight to get a better view. It looked like it might have been a stockroom once, but all the containers were destroyed. There was some indication that shockwave had blown apart some of them, but the unsettling things were the claw marks covering the floor and the walls. Something had gone through and torn the room apart.

"What the hell happened here?"

Only silence answered him, and he felt foolish for having asked the question. He went out the door and kept exploring.

The facility was truly massive. He had spent twenty minutes walking down a hallway that seemed to have no end. Even ruined as it was, it was awe-inspiring when you thought about it. This place almost seemed like it could go on without end. There were several rooms for storage, but there were also labs and computer rooms. All of these had been destroyed, their contents strewn across the floor like so much garbage.

At certain points he saw bloodstains on the walls, and there were claw marks everywhere. Something horrible had happened here, something nightmarish. He eased his pistol out of its holster a bit. His senses were all on the highest alertness. There was something about this place, something eerie. It was as if what had happened here had left an imprint, a kind of echo, into the air and the rock. Marcus almost felt that if he closed his eyes and stood still he would be able to feel what had happened to this place. That he could see the horrors that had been unleashed upon the people who had worked here.

'_Cripes, my imagination's is running wild. Focus!'_

He carefully checked all the rooms as he went, hoping to find clues. All he found was more destruction; rooms destroyed by what appeared to be a pressure wave and clawed monstrosities. Eventually he reached the caved part of the base. He briefly examined it before deciding that it was completely impassible. If he started moving rubble around he might cause the roof to cave in. So he left it and went down a side corridor. After an hour of searching he was beginning to think that the trip had been a waste of time, but as he walked down the stairs to a lower level he soon found pay dirt.

He came upon a door that was thicker than the others, made from reinforced steel. It had a keypad and card reader set in the wall next to it. Grinning to himself, Marcus pulled out a small device.

Marcus liked to fiddle with electronics. He freely admitted he didn't have the intuition to actually invent things, but if you gave him the plans he could probably build it. He liked to take things apart and put them back together. He had always enjoyed that even back in ROTC in college. He also liked spending what extra money he had on some cool toys. The device he had now would be plugged into the card reader and work through the possible numerical codes on the door, working its way to the right one. In under a minute he had the door open.

The room was intact. Whatever had destroyed the base hadn't gotten to this room. Even better, there was a computer terminal. He sat down in front of it and turned it on. It was still working, but barely. Even if the room was intact the wires had to have been damaged by the destruction of the base. Not only that, but whatever power source this thing ran on was probably damaged. He didn't know how long he would have before it would fail.

The screen flickered a bit, the text asking for a password. Lawson had written down his clearance codes just in case Marcus found a working terminal. It wouldn't given him complete access, but it might give him video feeds. What actually showed up shocked him.

"**La…son? Bo…'s friend?"** an unsteady, broken voice crackled through the speakers.

"What on Earth?"

"**No… Not h…m. Who are you?"**

Marcus hesitated a second. There was something actually alive, if barely, inside the terminal. He briefly considered lying, but decided there was no point to it. He knew he wouldn't be able to pass himself off as Lawson for very long. "Marcus Roland. I'm Marcus Roland."

"**I kn…w you. Boss spoke ab…t you. Y…'re his fr…nd."**

"Yes, yes I was. Who are you?"

"**Just a rem…nt. I wo…t be able to h…ld on l…g."**

His luck had held out this far, so Marcus decided to push it further."Please, if you were Dream's friend you have to help me. I need to know what happened here."

The screen flickered again. Suddenly there was an outpouring of data. Blue prints, video feeds, sound files. There was so much moving so quickly that Marcus could barely see anything before something new popped up. He quickly pulled out a portable hard drive and plugged it in, setting the information up for download. The hard drive could hold a couple of terabytes of information. He hoped it would be enough. Even though the information was compressed in storage, there was a lot of it.

One thing caught his eye, a video feed with sound. It was of Dream, but there were other voices in the background. He was talking to someone over radio. Marcus was surprised with how old his friend looked. It wasn't a physical thing, not really. Dream had always aged well. It was his stance, as well as his voice, that gave off signs of a great weariness. That weariness dispelled the mask of youth Dream had managed to hold over himself, making him seem even older than he actually was.

_"Dad, why are we out here?"_

_"AI, eject the entry plug. Quatre."_

_**"You got it, Dad."**_

_"Dad, what are you doing?" _

_"The nearest city is… That way."_

"_Dr. Mondschein, we're not leaving you!"_

_"You two don't have a choice in the matter. We can't stop this. We tried, and we failed. At the very least, you two are getting out of here."_

_"But dad-"_

_"No buts!"_

"_Dad! Don't do this! We'll fight with you!"_

"_I don't want you two to fight. You two finally got each other. Don't throw your lives away. You got that?"_

_"… alright."_

_"I love you both with all my heart."_

_**"You two be good to each other, and if I find out that Adam did something to harm you, Allison, I swear I will come back and I will hunt him down."**_

_"Good bye, you two. Good luck."_

That was the last of the feed. Whatever had happened after that must have been lost in the shockwave that took out the base. Marcus held his face in his hand for a moment. This was, most likely, the last recording of one of his oldest friends. It took him a few minutes to compose himself. Finally, he spoke. He wasn't really speaking to anyone in particular, he just needed to speak in order to cope with the grief he was feeling.

"So Dream's son was here, and he made it out? Better destroy this when I'm done. Wipe the system."

"**I'll do th…t. Do…'t worry."**

"You're… Quatre, right? An AI? Thank you for this. I'll find out what happened, why this happened. I promise."

"**Thank you."**

The last of the information loaded. He had managed to get everything, but it was a near thing. If it hadn't been compressed as far as it could go Marcus doubted he would have been able to get a fourth of what he got. This would take days to sort through, but it wasn't as if he didn't have time. Hopefully from here they could find their next lead.

He was happy that Adam had managed to get out of all this. He had met the kid a few times when he was younger, though he doubted Adam remembered him. He looked like a good kid, and Marcus had enjoyed meeting him. Dream's son had warmed his usual dreary disposition.

A noise outside got his attention, and Marcus jumped out of his seat in surprise. The base was so quiet that he could hear sounds even at remarkable distances. Somebody was going down the stairs from a higher level. They stopped at the level just above him and Marcus let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He checked his watch, cursing to himself. He had lost track of time. It was almost five thirty. The search teams were going to be going through everything. He had to get out of there now!

Marcus quickly and quietly made his way back to the vent he had come in on. He crawled in and slowly climbed his way up. Soon enough he reached the surface. The false dawn had already lit the horizon. He choked back a curse and set the vent grate back into place, loosely screwing it in. He crawled through the hole in the fence and closed it a bit to hide what he had done. By the time anyone walked by he was long gone.

ooooo

He was tired and cranky when he finally got back to his apartment building. He hadn't taken a plane from Alaska, but rather had taken a boat and then driven the rest of the way back to Chicago. It was long and tedious, but it would hopefully keep him out of notice. The length of the trip, however, had given him little to distract him as he ruminated on his deceased friend. Going over the data hadn't helped. It just drove home the fact that Dream was dead. Added to that, it was raining and cold. No, Marcus wasn't having the best evening.

He needed to call Lawson. There was too much technical jargon in the information he had pulled up. He had gone over the feeds, so he had the gist of what had happened. There had been a spy in NERV 4. Dream had confronted him, but there had been so much power unleashed in that conflict that all he got was snow on the feed. Still, it didn't take a genius to figure out that SEELE was the culprit. The only question was why. Why had SEELE done this? Did it have anything to do with the fact that NERV Alaska, which was for all intents and purposes the organization's dumping ground, had received two Evangelions? Marcus figured the answers might lay elsewhere in the mass of information he had taken, but he knew it would be Lawson who fished it out.

He was awoken from his musings as he made his way to his door. Something wasn't right.

Marcus was a practical man. He didn't put any stock in so called "Sixth Sense" or anything like that. He did, however, put stock in instinct. It, combined with his five senses, had saved is life on multiple occasions. He supposed that all of that, at a high enough level, could make a "Sixth Sense," but he preferred to call it experience.

The floor in front of his door was a little damp, and there were scratch marks by the keyhole. It could have been nothing, but the little details sometimes meant the difference between life and death. He supposed that made him a little paranoid. He decided he didn't care about that.

Marcus drew his weapon and kicked open the door. There were two men in nondescript black suits moving about his modest apartment. Marcus shot the older one twice in the head, avoiding the chest. Despite the suits it was best to assume they were wearing some kind of armor. The man stumbled and fell over, landing lopsided over Marcus's couch and bleeding all over it. The man's partner got in close and knocked Marcus's weapon away. He pulled some strange, vaguely gun like contraption from his suit jacket. Marcus saw a needle at the front of it. With a roar he batted the thing from the man's hand and head butted him in the nose, breaking it with a gruesome crunching sound.

Marcus's attacker stumbled back but recovered quickly, ignoring the river of blood coming from his broken nose. He struck Marcus on the side, near the floating rib. It took the breath out of him and forced him back. This was followed up by another strike to the ribs, this time on the other side. He finished up this brutal combo with an elbow to Marcus's nose, breaking it with a crack. Marcus yelled in pain and put up a guard as the man continued to attack him. He was using quick, jarring strikes to try and force his guard down, saving his real force for an opening. Marcus just kept his arms up and shifted his body so all the blows hit his forearms. He did his best to ignore the pain that radiated from his sides and face. The bastard had gotten him good there, but now he was ready. He was waiting, watching for his moment.

He saw a chance to counter and took it. His assailant struck out, and Marcus ducked. He struck the man under the chin with a full force uppercut, taking the man off his feet a little. He followed up with a strike to the temple that made the man stumble. Not letting up, Marcus grabbed the man's head and slammed it repeatedly into the wall.

"Drop you son of a bitch!"

Marcus continued this until the man stop resisting. When he let go his assailant crumpled to the floor in a limp pile. Marcus kicked him a few times to make sure the man was knocked out, but his attacker didn't move.

Working through the pain in his sides, face and forearms, Marcus pulled out the phone Lawson had given him.

"_Mark?"_

"Lawson. I just got back from Alaska. I'll be sending you the info over the phone. I'll have to hide a bit after that. I was just attacked in my apartment."

"_You were WHAT? Mark, are you all right?"_

"I'm fine. These guys were here for capture, so they held back. I killed one of them…"

Marcus looked down at the body bleeding on the floor. It had been years since he last killed a man. In the heat of the moment it hadn't mattered, it was kill or be killed, but now that it was over Marcus felt more than a little sick with himself. He feared he was going to feel a lot worse before all this was over.

"_Mark?"_

Marcus shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I'm fine. Anyway, they probably have the building watched, but I think I can lose these guys. I'll send you the info I gathered and then deal with the one I knocked out."

"_All right. But Mark, why were these guys trying to capture you?"_

"Best guess is that our meeting was observed and they followed me to Alaska, putting two and two together. These guys have to be with SEELE. I fucked up and rushed it, heading over there so soon."

"There wasn't any choice, Mark. Everything we're doing is time sensitive. What you found might not have been there if you waited too long."

"Still doesn't make me feel any better about rushing this. Sloppy work is sloppy work. I've got fall off the grid for a bit now. You should still be all right, if you're asked anything give them the truth. You told me about Dream's death because he was a mutual friend. I just decided to go off on my own. It should take some of the heat off you if it comes."

"All right. You be careful, okay Mark? You got lucky this time, they were sent to capture, not kill. Next time they probably won't hold their punches."

"No need to tell me how the business works, Lawson. Here, I'm sending you the data now."

Marcus plugged his external hard drive into the phone and sent it off. It took about three minutes, over all. Marcus found that kind of amazing and wondered where the hell Lawson had gotten one of these phones. Maybe he had built it himself, or Dream had.

_"I got it."_

"Good. I'm signing off."

_"Watch yourself out there, and for what it's worth, Mark, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about this now and what happened back then."_

The phone clicked off and Marcus closed it. He looked down at the unconscious man before going off to get some supplies.

ooooo

He woke slowly, his head full of pain. The first thing he realized was that he couldn't move his arms and legs. He opened his eyes. It was dark except for the small oil lamp that rested on a wooden table at the other side of the room. The man he had been sent to capture, Marcus Roland, sat in a chair next to it reading a book. He glanced up from his reading and set the book down.

"Good. You're up."

Marcus stood up and approached him, stopping just a few feet away. The man had set his nose back into place and put a bandage on it to steady it. There was a bruise forming there, but all it did was serve to make him look more sinister in the half-light of the room. It was completely bare from what the bound man could see. There was only the table, the chair he sat on and the chair over there. He looked to the side and saw a workbench that was covered in tools of various shapes an sizes, most of which looked like they would be used for carpentry. He didn't focus on that for long though, keeping his attention on Marcus who was smiling a grim smile.

"I think it's time you and I had a little chat."


	3. What One is Prepared to Do

Next chapter of Aftermath here. This one... is a little weird. I may do some minor edits to this later, but for the most part I think it works. I would like to apologize now if any of the actions or comments of the characters below offend anyone. That was not my intention.

I would like to thank AMIADREAM for both the inspiration, in the form of his fantastic story, and the permission to do this. I greatly appreciate it.

* * *

NERV Alaska: Aftermath

What One is Prepared to Do

Dr. Lawson's eyes never left his computer screen as he reached over and took more candy from the bowl on his desk. He chewed absently mindedly as he looked over the data Mark had managed to acquire. He had no fear for the safety of the computer. He had bought it the day before and had removed the wireless card, making it completely isolated from the wider network.

He was amazed at the amount of data Mark had managed to find considering that NERV Alaska was a cold ruin. They had really lucked out, Mark's confrontation in his apartment not withstanding. It was almost as if Mark had had help in finding all this, but Dr. Lawson knew that was a foolish notion. They were alone in this, and he knew that there couldn't have been any survivors left at Alaska. But those were inconsequential thoughts compared to the treasure trove that lay at his fingertips. There were video feeds, sound feeds and even Evangelion schematics. Those Dr. Lawson looked over especially carefully. He had a feeling that the base's two Evas had to have been related somehow to the Impact event.

He pinched his nose when the screen became blurred in front of him and he allowed himself a few minutes to rest. He had to keep up appearances, which meant that he had to keep up his regular workload as well as working on this. The end result was that he had only gotten about three hours of sleep. Dr. Lawson wistfully recalled how much easier it had been when he was even ten years younger and able to pull off all-nighters consecutively.

'_Yes,'_ he mused to himself. _'It was easier to do this when I was younger, but I was also more foolish then. So many mistakes…'_

One mistake in particular stood out for the good doctor, of a friendship lost with words spoken in anger.

ooooo

_Marcus was getting his things from his locker and placing them in a nondescript black duffel bag. He didn't have much to fill it with. He had tendered his resignation two weeks before, giving ample time for the chain of command to work him through all the nondisclosure agreements. He hadn't known a whole lot about sensitive Gehirn information, but if he ever revealed what he did know the organization would be legally qualified to do whatever they saw fit to him. He didn't mind, considering he didn't want anything to do with the organization again._

_He closed the locker and turned around, not surprised in the least to see his friend standing there. He had spent the entire two weeks trying to talk Marcus out of his decision, but he wouldn't be swayed. Marcus figured now that his friend was going for one last-ditch effort to keep him from leaving._

"_So," Dr. Lawson began. "This is it. You're just going to head out and leave us all behind."_

_Marcus could feel the anger brimming below the surface of his friend's calm tone; he had been watching it simmer for weeks now. He hated that he was hurting the man like this, but he couldn't see any way to avoid it. He saw the carnage when he closed his eyes, heard the screams when he fell asleep. He couldn't get it out of head, and it was showing. Dark bags lined under his eyes where restless sleep marked him. His face was haggard and withdrawn; he just couldn't make himself eat to his fill. The food started tasted like ashes if he chewed it for too long._

"_Jack, I'm sorry. I just can't do this any more. I have to leave. Those screams, the faces on the bodies… That family was sitting down to dinner when the grenades hit right outside. Tore right through the wall. I can't get it out of my head, Jack; their eyes are burned into my mind, accusing me. I… I just can't do this any more. I'm done. It may be small, but it's a necessary job and Gehirn needs someone more capable."_

"_You're perfectly capable!" Dr. Lawson said at practically a scream. Marcus stepped back as his friend stepped forward, surprised at this outburst from the normally collected man. "You just need time, Mark. Give yourself a few months and you'll be fine. Please, don't do this."_

"_No amount of time is going to erase this, Jack. That family is dead and I might as well have pulled the trigger." He stepped forward, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder and smiling a sad little smile. "See you around, Jack. I'll keep in touch."_

_Jack stood there for a second, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth as Marcus slowly walked toward the entrance of the locker room. Finally, after simmering under the surface for a fortnight, his anger and frustration boiled over. He turned and grabbed his friend by the shoulder, forcing Mark to face him._

"_Dammit Mark, we are at war! We are going into battle with an alien race for the survival of our very species! Casualties always happen in war, and we battle not only the Angels but also those who would steal from our one shot at winning, traitors to our race! It was a tragedy, Mark, there's no getting around that, but when faced with extinction every alternative is preferable!"_

_Marcus stood there, his jaw dropped as his friend acted almost completely out of character. He knew that Jack was devoted to Gehirn's cause, but he hadn't realized just how much this project meant to the man. But as he talked, Marcus was growing steadily more and more angry. He closed his mouth in a snarl and grabbed his friend by his shirt collar. _

"_So where does the line end, Jack? How far do we go? Do we just write off things like this as acceptable losses and do nothing to prevent it from happening again!"_

"_The line ends on the side of what has to be done, and if you weren't too much of a coward you'd see that too!"_

_Whatever else he had been going to say was cut off as Marcus punched the man in the jaw with enough force to throw Dr. Lawson across the room, making the man slide on the floor before he impacted with the lockers. Marcus's face was a mask of barely restrained fury. He had thought his friend would understand, would support him, but instead what he got was two weeks of the man giving him no peace and topping it off with calling Marcus a coward for not being able to deal with the innocent deaths he had caused._

"_Good bye, Lawson. Don't ever see me again."_

ooooo

"God damn, but I said some stupid things," he mumbled regretfully before looking back up at the computer screen and pouring over the information it held. He had felt so angry then, felt so betrayed by what he had thought of as Marcus abandoning their goal and, perhaps more importantly, him. Oh, he believed what he had said then, for the most part. When faced with extinction you did whatever you had to in order to survive, and sometimes there would be tragedies like what had happened then. It didn't make them any less horrible, however, and if there was any chance to avoid such things it was imperative to do so, but despite the best efforts of all involved something would always, eventually, slip through the cracks.

But despite his beliefs, it wasn't what Marcus had needed. His friend had been guilt ridden and traumatized; had needed help and understanding instead of accusations and misplaced anger. He had realized this a few weeks later, had wanted to make up for it, but in the end he had given up. Marcus never answered his calls, and Dream had been concerned that the man might have responded with violence if Dr. Lawson showed up personally.

He was snapped out of his musings by something strange on an Evangelion schematic. It was Unit 14, a kind of prototype unit. From what he had seen of it so far it had gone off the beaten path a bit, exploring different aspects of Evangelion ability than just straight combat. His eyes widened as he looked over some of the figures pooled from tests and the fights with the Artificial Angels.

"What? Multiple AT Field generation, maximum output over fifty fields at once! This… This kind of power could prevent an Impact event! No, no it couldn't, not all by itself. There'd have to be at least four of them working together, channeling the fields near the heart of the Impact, but even one unit alone could reduce the effects. Why was something like this left to gather dust in Alaska?"

ooooo

The water dripped slowly onto his face with no discernable pattern, getting into his eyes no matter how he closed them. His hair was soaked, as was his shirt. Marcus had set up a plastic was cooler, like the kind in office buildings, to slowly pour over the captive man's face. Said face has been restrained with belts so that he has no choice but to look strait up as the water as it fell. It was surprising how much a single drop of water, repeated for hours, could seep in anywhere and everywhere. This, combined with the incredibly uncomfortable position he was stuck in, made sleep impossible. The man had been awake for almost forty hours.

Marcus, on the other hand, had just woken up from a quick two-hour nap. His watch beeped until he turned it off, smacking his lips and looking groggily at his captive. He had been taking little catnaps in order to keep up his energy, never sleeping too long. Just because he had bound the man in enough rope and duct tape to restrain a horse didn't excuse carelessness.

"So, you ready to talk yet?" he asked as he chewed into a cereal bar. He asked this question every time he woke up, and every time he was met with silence. Marcus grimaced and finished the bar, washing it down with some water. The man had to be close to cracking by now.

"Come on, you could at least give me your name, kid."

The man responded, again, with silence.

"Fine, then I think I'm going to call you Timmy."

Marcus stood up and wiped the crumbs of his bar on his pants. He moved closer so that the bound man could better see him.

"You know, Timmy, there's really not a lot I care about in this world. That's as much to do with the times as with me, because lets face it, the last fifteen years have sucked. First comes Second Impact, and then all my family dies during the Impact Wars."

He was pacing around the man, keeping him off balanced. The dripping water kept throwing him off, making him try to focus on both it and Marcus as he strolled around. This, combined with nearly two days without sleep, caused a very interesting vertigo effect that would have made him throw up if he had actually had food in his stomach.

"And, frankly," Marcus went on. "I'm an ass. I have a cranky, abrasive personality and it puts people off. I've tried to fix it, but the results are always sub par. So when I meet people who can put up with me, who are willing to get to know me, it really means a lot to me. So perhaps you can understand why I'm so distraught that one of those few friends is dead."

Marcus stopped directly behind the man, looking straight into his eyes.

"I doubt you have the faintest clue who your top superior is, but you probably know your direct commanding officer. I want a name."

Timmy stayed silent, looking directly into Marcus's eyes like he was daring the man to do his worst. Marcus snarled, and with a grimace he reached over and forced back one of Timmy's fingers until it broke with an audible snap. Timmy clamped his mouth shut and attempted to pitch forward, barely restraining a scream. The straps holding his head held tight, however, and all Timmy managed was shaking in place.

"A name," Marcus repeated.

Timmy hyperventilated a little bit before endorphins flooded his system and brought the pain back to more manageable levels. When it did, he smiled straight at Marcus's grim stare, as if he knew something that Marcus didn't.

Marcus was puzzled for a second, wondering how the man could smile in this position. He snapped his fingers when he figured it out.

"Ah, I see. You've still got some hope that your friends will find you from that tracking beacon I removed from your left arm. Sorry Timmy, no one's coming to save you."

For a split second, so fast that Marcus would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it, despair covered Timmy's features. Then, as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving only a kind of serene resignation.

"You will not break me, heretic. My faith is too strong."

Marcus's eyebrows shot up. He had expected cursing, perhaps even pleading, but not this. This was something different all together.

"Your faith? You a church going boy, Timmy?"

"You know nothing. The decadent god of a past age holds no meaning for me. The time of my Lord's ascension is nigh, and the faithful shall stand at his feet while the heretics burn."

Marcus motioned for him to keep going, but Timmy remained silent. His face was steady, serene and determined. Marcus sighed; he really didn't want to do this. He had hoped just keeping the man awake for so long would get his loosen his tongue, but the man was made of something strong. He wouldn't break like this.

"Fine, we do this the hard way."

Half an hour later Marcus stumbled out of the shack and vomited all over the ground. The morning sun shown over Lake Michigan, granting a view of magnificent beauty that was utterly lost on him as he emptied the contents of his stomach. They were on a small island inside the lake, a kind of safe house that Marcus occasionally spirited himself away to when he needed to get away from it all. The island was covered in trees and brush, which meant that the shack was almost impossible to see by boat, making it perfect when Marcus had to lay low for a while.

Eventually, his stomach ran out of material, leaving him to dry heave for a minute as he settled himself.

"Damn son of a bitch killed himself," he muttered as he wiped his mouth. But this wasn't why he had lost his composure, or it least it wasn't the entire reason. He had been prepared to torture that man for information. Hell, he already had by keeping the man awake for so long and by breaking fingers. He was disgusted with himself, hated what he had done and what he would have done. He was actually grateful that the man had bitten off his tongue before he could go further than just breaking fingers.

He leaned back against a tree, attempting to regain his composure. He knew he would never forgive himself for what he had done, and what he had been prepared to do. That was good. Things like this shouldn't be so casually forgiven, in his opinion. He added it to the ever-growing list of things that would keep him up at night and attempted to move his thoughts to more immediate concerns.

"So now I'm dealing with fanatics who think SEELE is their god. Great, this just keeps getting better and better."

With a sigh he stood up, using the tree to support his still shaky legs. Now he had to dispose of the body.

"I was right," he mumbled as he walked back to the shack. "This month has really sucked."

ooooo

Emil Harmon looked over the report on his desk with a scowl. It wasn't particularly long, it was merely an after action report concerning a recent operation his agents had undergone. The results that it detailed, however, could lead to disaster.

He was a thin man of average height with a sharp, hatchet face and might have been considered good looking if he bothered to actually wear anything but his usual stern expression. One would be foolish, however, to underestimate him simply because he wasn't bulky. In his body lay a surprising well of strength that had more than once meant the downfall of would-be assassins. If eyes were the windows of the soul then his green eyes revealed a man who was as unyielding as stone and willing to crush all who opposed him under his heel.

He had been raised that way, brought up as a young man upon the true path in worship of the true god, the great god Lorenz, who traveled the world in his mortal shell while awaiting ascension. He was the right hand of Lorenz, smiting down His enemies in His name for His purpose. The heretic was everywhere, those who would oppose the will of Lorenz, but he was pure. Yes, he and his acolytes, those who performed the judgement of Lorenz where it was most needed, were the few pure beings in a broken and filthy world. They were not a large group, but they were necessary. He allowed himself a small flicker of pride for that. They were useful, and as the great Lorenz had decreed, only the useful were of any value in this world.

He moved a few short, black strands of hair out of his face and pressed a button on his desk.

"Send in Agent Darya."

In minutes a young woman of apparently Russian descent walked into the room. Her blonde hair was cut short, and her grey eyes shone with eager anticipation that even made Emil's mouth quirk. It did warm the cockles of his heart to see one so faithful so eager to do the work of Lorenz. Alexis Darya had that effect on people. She was an exuberant and pretty young woman.

"You called for me, sir?" she asked with a faint accent.

"Yes," Emil said as he moved the after action report to the side so he could steeple his fingers. "Tell me, do you remember Agent Barret?"

"Of course, sir. He did great works against the heretics just recently, losing his life to do so. He was a noble and faithful man to our Lord."

"Indeed, he was. Now, how would you feel if I told you that one particularly tenacious man was trying to discover exactly what Agent Barret had done and was attempting to undo his great work?"

Alexis's hands clenched.

"Sir, surely such a man would be the worst of heretics. To move so blatantly against our Lord…" She paused for a second, trying to work her feelings into something more appropriate to say in front of her superior. Zeal was encouraged, but not to the point that it decreased one's use. "Sir, I can understand letting the Ikari's live for now as they are useful to Lord Lorenz, but surely we cannot let such a man as this do as he pleases!"

"You are, of course, quite right, Agent Darya. We cannot. That is why I have called you today. Two of the faithful have already died attempting to capture this man, and that is two too many. We will no longer suffer this heretic's continued existence. You are to find him and eliminate him."

"Yes sir!"

"Good hunting, Agent Darya. Remember that our Lord Lorenz rewards only those who have use. To fail means that one's use has come to an end."


	4. Ends and Beginnings

And here is the last chapter of Aftermath. I would like to again thank AMIADREAM for allowing me to do this. I really appreciate the opportunity.

* * *

NERV Alaska: Aftermath

Ends and Beginnings

"So can you do it, or not?" Marcus asked with a growl. He had already stayed in this place for too long and it was putting him on edge.

"Oh, of course," Jean-Leon said with an unctuous smile and a faint French accent. Marcus had to restrain an urge to punch the man in the face. They had been haggling for hours before finally settling on a price, and the bastard had insisted on small talk in a thinly disguised effort to learn more about him. The man had got wind of Marcus's desperation early on, which immediately put him in the superior position for bargaining. Marcus had put up a fight for it on general principle, but the price settled was still in Jean Leon's favor and he knew it. "I can get you onto the boat and out of the country like you want. You need to be gone quickly, no? You did say less than forty eight hours."

"Yeah, I did. You had better be worth what I'm paying."

"Sir, I am shocked! I hold the finest service in all of Canada! You need to disappear? I will make you disappear. Your trail, it will vanish as if you were a ghost.

"Good." Marcus didn't honestly expect the man to erase his trail so much that SEELE wouldn't find him eventually, but all he needed was to stall them and get off the continent. He could handle himself from there.

"I am curious, though. What is a big, fierce man like you running from? It must be fierce, no?"

"Believe me, the less you know, the better. Just get everything set up. I'll be at the docks when the time comes."

Marcus strode out the door and hiked his trench coat up. Canada was cold almost any time of the year, even now so long past winter. Kelowna hadn't been a very large city before Second Impact, but with the rise in water levels it was now a fairly prosperous port. He had crossed the border at Lake Michigan and hitchhiked his way West. After getting into town he had called in some favors which had directed him to Jean-Leon, on the front the owner of a shipping company and behind the scenes a man who helped other men disappear.

He sighed and asked himself one of the many questions that had been going through his mind. How had it come to this? All he had wanted was to find out about his friend's death, and now he was neck deep in conspiracy and insane cultists. And despite it all he still didn't have the whole picture. All he had were pieces, some of which he didn't even understand. He hoped Lawson had made some headway on that in the last few days. He would have to call him soon.

He tried to move his thoughts away from such dark tidings and tried to focus on something more positive. Adam had made it out. The kid was alive, and apparently so was someone else who had been in the entry plug. Marcus didn't have a clue who she could be, but he figured that her being alive was another bright spot in this whole horrible affair. From the way they were talking it sounded like she was Adam's girlfriend. Marcus smiled a small, but genuine, smile.

"Good for you, kid."

The street lamps were on, but no one walked the streets. It was almost midnight, and Jean-Leon's office had been near the docks. It wasn't a place where most people wanted to linger after dark. Marcus knew he sure as hell didn't want to, anyway.

He heard footsteps and tensed, gripping the pistol in his coat pocket. He relaxed a bit after he saw who it was. A young woman, no older than twenty-five, was walking down the street in a peacoat and what looked like tight, black pants. She sashayed up to him and smiled. She had a pretty smile, well suited for her well-proportioned face and high cheekbones. She had short blonde hair which she kept back with a small hair band, making her look kind of cute, to be honest.

"Fancy a night, sir? I'll make it worth your while," she said with a faint Russian accent.

Marcus frowned. She was far too young for this, having to resort to this kind of work. Second Impact, and the Impact Wars, had left several orphans behind. Many fell through the cracks and were never found after the fighting stopped, and prostitution was one of many distasteful professions chosen for survival. It was an ugly, horrible thing, but it was the truth.

"Sorry, kid, I'm not interested. Here, I'll give you a hundred in American and you go get yourself a hot meal, okay?"

"That's too bad, mister Roland, because I'm really interested in you."

It was only his instincts and his quick reaction, born from the Impact Wars and his time working for Gehirn special ops, which saved him from the knife she pulled from her coat. He jumped back as she moved forward, her slash moving impossibly fast. He had his gun out in an instant and fired, but she had already ducked to the side and out of the way. She threw her knife at him, forcing him to move again, and drew her own weapon. It was then that Marcus noticed two things, one was that the knife had imbedded itself hilt deep in the concrete sidewalk. That would have been the most alarming thing if it hadn't been for the fact that his assailant had drawn a Desert Eagle.

"Shit!"

Marcus dove and rolled, getting out of the way as she fired off from the hand cannon, putting large holes in the street as he kept his head down and kept moving. He moved into the cover of an alleyway and kept his gun ready, waiting for his chance.

Alexis found herself impressed with this Marcus Roland, heretic though he was. He moved well, his movements well trained. If the dossier that the Order had managed to compile on him was true then it made sense. He had fought in the Impact Wars as a soldier for America, and after his term of service ended he had joined Gehirn's special task force. She stopped firing and moved to the side, and as she predicted her opponent ducked out of cover and fired. She kept running, dodging all his shots with a speed and grace that hardly seemed human. She knew he would respond that way. After all, she had fought in that war as well, for the Motherland. She just needed him to waste his ammunition, and then she would close in on him.

Thoughts of the war brought a grimace to her face as she remembered, barely over the age of ten, fighting in the army while the world went mad. She had fought and fought, until that day when the rocket hit their trench. After that she had thought she would fight no more, but then they had come. The servants of the glorious Lord Lorenz, who fixed her mangled body and showed her the true path. Lorenz had given her legs to walk with again, and in repayment for this she would slay all enemies.

Marcus cursed and stopped shooting. She was trying to get him to waste ammo. He knew that tactic well, had used it himself several times in the war. She was better at it, with how she moved. How could anyone move that fast? He idly wondered, as he got back behind cover, if she had been in the war as well. He hoped not. She would have been a child then, and children shouldn't have to dirty themselves in the horrors of war.

'_Dammit, Roland. Focus! No time for daydreaming.'_

Alexis frowned. He had caught on to her scheme. She'd just have to start moving in ahead of time, then. She forced him to stay behind cover with more shots from the Desert Eagle, blowing huge holes in the alleyway. She could hear him cursing as the shots sent chips of brick soaring through the air, and then she heard him running. That wouldn't do.

She ran into the alley to see he had stopped just at the other side, his weapon up. He fired, and she jumped. The leap was an impossible one, a good eight feet into the air before she kicked off the wall and toward the other. Marcus shot at her, but her kicking jumps kept moving so fast that it was impossible to get a hit in. And then his gun clicked empty.

That was the moment Alexis had been waiting for. With inhuman grace she dove down, tackling Marcus, forcing him off his feet and onto his back. He brought his arm up to pistol-whip her, but she caught it easily. Marcus growled and tried to get his arm free, but her grip was like a vice. Then, with no hesitation at all, she broke his forearm with an inhumanly strong squeeze, a sharp cracking sound echoing throughout the air.

Marcus couldn't hold back the scream of pain that tore through his lips. His arm felt like one solid mass of agony radiating out in waves to the rest of his body. His throat felt raw when he was finished, and his vision was blurred with pain. He could hardly see the girl sitting on top of him. She had let go of his arm, letting it drop painfully onto the asphalt. His gun fell from his pain-wracked hand and onto the street, clattering just out of his reach.

Alexis wished she could exult and shout the name of her Lord as she wrapped her hands around Marcus's throat, but she knew that that was an impossible wish. It was one of the gravest of sins for any of the true believers to name their Lord in public. The world was full of heretics, and they would all swarm upon them and their Lord should they learn of His existence. His true divinity had to remain hidden until his ascension. So she took what little pleasure she could take as she squeezed the life out of the man beneath her.

"Know, heretic, that your death will not be in vain," she whispered, bringing her face closer to his. She was smiling a content, almost comforting smile. "Your death you will serve my Lord, troubling him no further. May he have mercy upon your soul when he ascends to his rightful place above us all."

His response was not what she expected. Instead of cursing or pleading, as so many heretics had done before under her judgement, Marcus looked at her with eyes of pity and an expression of horror.

"What," he rasped painfully. "What have those monsters done to you?"

Alexis was taken aback. She pulled away from him, her grip slackening. What did he mean? What was he talking about? Was he implying that the Order had done something wrong to her? But that was foolish. They had given her legs again, had fixed her body. They had shown her the true path.

Her thoughts, scrambled by Marcus's words, aligned themselves just in time to realize that the man had moved. He had reached into his coat and pulled out something. It was a sawed off shotgun.

Alexis barely had time to get her arms in front of her before Marcus pulled off his shot. The blast too took her off of him and soaring a short distance, allowing Marcus to take a few wheezing gasps of precious air. He was lucky that she had loosened her grip in surprise. If she hadn't she might have torn out his throat when he pulled that stunt.

He glanced back at her before charging off at a run. As he had, perhaps pessimistically, thought, she was getting up. Sparks were coming off from her arms, and he saw a glimpse of light reflected off of metal. She was a cyborg.

"Great," he muttered as he ran. "Now I'm dealing with the goddamn terminator."

He knew that the lead he had gained wouldn't last long. With her enhancements she could easily catch up with him. The best decision would be to hide, but he knew that she would just catch up with him eventually. She was a hunter, and not just that but a fanatical one. She would tear this city apart looking for him, and odds were she would succeed before he found a way out undetected. He had to end this.

And idea came to him. A crazy, stupid idea but it was better than nothing. He looked over his shoulder. As he thought, she was up and chasing him, eating up ground at an alarming speed. Marcus wasn't a slouch, but he couldn't compete with legs powered by servos and hydraulics instead of muscles.

He took a sharp turn, ducking into another alleyway. Like he had thought, with the speed she was running at she couldn't turn easily. She skidded as she overshot, allowing Marcus to move on to the next part of his plan.

He spotted an office building and ran for the door, shooting the knob off with his shotgun. He went in and headed for the stairs, going down. He knew that his attacker had followed him by the booming crash of the door getting knocked off its hinges. He had gotten her angry. That was good.

He eventually found himself in the basement. It was crowded and smelled like mold, which Marcus figured most basements smelled like. The walls had various cleaning supplies on shelves, and there was a mope and bucket in the corner. He locked the door behind him, stalling for as much time as he could get. He let out a breath when he saw what he needed on the opposite wall. He could pull this off yet, but he had to time it perfectly. He ran to the other end of the room and waited, trying to keep his nerves steady.

It wasn't a long wait. The doorknob rattled a bit before it was simply wrenched off with the screeching of metal. Alexis walked in casually, chucking the knob to the side.

"Are we done playing cat and mouse? You will go quietly, yes?"

Marcus snarled and drew his shotgun forward. He was a wretched sight, bruises all over his neck and one arm dangling limply. Still, he wasn't just about to roll over and die.

"Like hell."

"Fine."

Alexis kicked off the ground and leaped forward. The man might get off a shot with his gun, but she would be able to block most of it with one of her arms, allowing the other to go straight through his chest. Yes, it was over. The heretic had put up a remarkable struggle, but he was done now. She soared through the air, an invincible arrow aimed unerringly at its target. She smiled, happy to be doing her Lord's work. Her smile remained right until Marcus dropped to the floor and she punched through the fuse box, igniting her world with pain.

Marcus rolled and covered his ears as best he could, trying to block out both the fire radiating from his arm and the screaming that inundated the air. Torrents of electricity ripped through the girl, making her spasm and tearing up her cybernetic enhancements. He figured that she was wearing some kind of insulated synthetic skin, but he had ripped off a good portion of that when he had shot her, making her vulnerable as the power wracked her body in agony. To her, it felt as if fire had replaced her blood, that shards of glass had replaced her air. Every second was like an eternity of unbearable torture. Her arms and legs sparked and crackled, eventually buckling, sending her tumbling backward and out of the box, her body twitching and sparking. Her right arm was a burned and charred lump ending a little past her wrist.

She was still alive, if barely. From how she twitched and spasmed he figured she couldn't move. However, she was still breathing and her eyes were moving nonstop. She was scared out of her mind, being unable to move freely. Her eyes eventually settled on him, and she stopped hyperventilating. She just closed her eyes and took that same resigned expression that the man he had captured took, even though her features were wracked in pain. She was just waiting for death to come and claim her.

Marcus's expression was one of tight control as he looked down at her. He wasn't seeing her, not really. What he was seeing was a younger girl, fifteen years ago, after the grenades fell. A little girl lying still, barely a teenager, with her blonde hair in pigtails and blood covering her lifeless eyes. Dead eyes that asked accusing, pointed questions. Why had she had died? Why been there had been such pain before she eventually bled out and grew cold. What had she done to deserve this? Eyes with questions he didn't have the answers for, eyes he could never forget.

Marcus holstered his shotgun in his coat and reached into his pocket, pulling out his regular cellphone. He quickly dialed a number and brought it to his ear.

"Hello, I'd like to report an accident. A young woman has been electrocuted at an office building near the intersection of Walton and Fifth Street. She's got prosthetics. The door's been blown open. Please hurry, I think she's in a lot of pain."

With that done, he closed the phone and walked for the door. He had to find a place to hide for the next day before he could get out of the country.

"Why?" a weak, hoarse voice croaked out from behind him. He turned and locked eyes with Alexis. She had managed to move her head a little, turning so she could look at him. Her face was full of questions, but it hurt too much to talk. So she had put them all behind that one word and waited for him to answer.

Marcus sighed. "Because I'm an idiot," he said after a few seconds, his voice still hoarse from when she choked him. "A naïve fool who still wishes for happy endings even when I'm old enough to know better. But mostly, I'm just tired of seeing kids die."

He pulled out his other phone when he got outside, grunting in pain with every little twitch of his broken arm. He kept walking until he was a good distance from where he had left his attacker, stopping a little to catch his breath. He was more than a little winded. He thought some of his ribs might be cracked too, now that the adrenaline had died down. She had tackled him pretty hard and she wasn't exactly light, what with all the metal in her body.

"_Mark? Oh good, I was just about to contact you! I read through all the data and I think I have it figured out."_

"Do tell. If yours clicks with what I've found we might have a full picture."

"_Found out? Mark, I thought you were hiding. And what's wrong with your voice?"_

"Just tell me what you found."

"_All right, all right. Be mysterious. See if I care. What I found were the schematics and operations data for Evangelion Experimental Unit 14. Mark, the power output on it was amazing. It could generate multiple AT fields!"_

"And this means, what, exactly?" he asked as he passed by where his little shootout had occurred and retrieved his pistol.

"_It means that it had the potential to severely limit and Impact Event! Mark, if this thing had gotten some proper testing it could have revolutionized counter-angel warfare."_

"Then why was it shipped to Alaska? You told me that place was essentially a dumping ground as well as the R&D department."

"_That's the big question, Mark. It has to be Unit 14, but why?"_

Marcus was silent for a moment. "Lawson, the guys that attacked me in my apartment were part of some cult. They're most likely connected to SEELE in some way. Another one attacked me just now and they both mentioned something about their god ascending to true divinity. Lawson, could an Impact Event turn someone into a god?"

"_Attacked? Mark, are you okay?"_

"I'm fine," Marcus lied even as his arm gave him another jolt of agony. He was going to need to set it and find some painkillers soon. "Just answer me. Could and Impact Event make someone a god?"

"_I don't know, Mark. We really don't know a whole lot about the phenomenon, truthfully. It does seem to mess with reality in a localized area, so I guess it's theoretically possible."_

Dr. Lawson's tone conveyed just how likely he actually thought the prospect was, but Marcus latched on to it anyway.

"That's it then. NERV Alaska was destroyed because they were testing Unit 14 and they were afraid its true potential would be realized. Someone in SEELE wants an Impact Event to happen. I don't know how, but somehow someone plans to use an Impact to become a god."

"_Mark, that's awfully sketchy. It's a shot in the dark. There's just not enough evidence."_

"It's the best explanation we have, and it's the only one we're gonna get. This investigation is over, Lawson. I've been attacked twice, and I'm not going to sit around for a third time. I'm going deeper into hiding."

"_Okay, Mark. You're right, that's probably for the best. Again, I'm sorry that it came to this. You can contact me any time you need me."_

"Speaking of which, where did you get these phones, anyway? They're kind of amazing."

"_I know, right? I got them as a gift from Dr. Akagi at NERV 1 a couple of months ago for a little issue I helped her with. She's such a beautiful, intelligent woman. I'd have asked her to dinner, but I don't think that she would have appreciated the gesture."_

Marcus burst out laughing, cutting Dr. Lawson off. It was a heavy, belly laugh with a slight mournful pitch to it. Dr. Lawson blinked and looked at the phone, wondering what the hell Marcus was doing.

"_Mark?"_

Eventually, Marcus composed himself. It hurt to laugh, but he just couldn't help it. "Oh," he said between gasps for air. "Oh those clever bastards."

"_Mark, what are you talking about?"_

"You got the phone a few months ago? Let me guess, Dr. Akagi had this issue she wanted you to help her with just a week or two before you heard about Alaska?"

_"Yeah, now that you mention it. Mark, are you saying…"_

"That's exactly what I'm saying. The phones are bugged. NERV 1, the Ikaris, they already know everything we know. We found it out for them."

_"Why would they do that?"_

"You don't get in their position without being especially paranoid. They probably knew our history with Dream and figured we'd check it out ourselves, thus hiding their direct involvement from the investigation. Oh, that's good. I'm saluting that one."

_"I feel used…"_

"Don't worry about it, Jack. Happens to the best of us. Anyway, I'm going to sign off. I got a boat ride to catch in a day or two."

_"Where will you go?"_

"Heh. The one place on Earth where SEELE's influence is weakest," he said before closing the phone. He looked at it and laughed a bit more. "Magnificent bastards."

Dr. Lawson looked at the phone for a minute before shaking his head. It took him few minutes to realize that Marcus had called him by his first name for the first time in years.

ooooo

Emil Harmon looked at the report on his desk with a snarl. He was not pleased. Once more this Marcus Roland had slipped through their grasp, and to make matters worse someone had interfered with the squad sent to deal with Mondschein's brat. He had a strong suspicion he knew who exactly had interfered with them on that front, but with no hard evidence Lord Lorenz might not be able to use it for leverage over the Ikaris. Those heretics were still too strong to just blatantly deal with, which was a pity. He would report it anyway, but it would be faint consolation for the repeated failures to deal with Roland and the younger Mondschein.

He leaned back into his chair and steepled his fingers, thinking fiercely to plot out the next plan of action. Roland had dropped off the radar and his trail had gone cold. Someone had covered for him. It was a praiseworthy, but ultimately futile cover. They'd find his trail again in a few days, same with the Mondschein child. In the end, there was nowhere that they could hide from him.

"Yes," he said quietly to himself. "This isn't over."

ooooo

Marcus took a deep, exaggerated breath of air as he stepped off the train. It had been a peaceful, quiet, trip. It had taken a little over a week, and he had been on edge the whole time. He had half expected to have to deal with SEELE agents coming out of the sea, or maybe something as strange as mutant pirate spiders from Australia. After all the craziness of the last month he wouldn't have been surprised by anything. But it hadn't come, and the worst he had to deal with had been nothing more than several nights of rough sleep. His arm was still in a sling for good measure, and it hurt to use it for anything too strenuous. That girl had really messed him up good back in Canada. He had been right about the ribs, too. He had some very small fractures, but nothing too serious.

He looked out at the city and smiled. He had made it. He had beaten the odds and, if not coming out on top, had at least not lost. That was something, right?

"Hello, Tokyo 3."

* * *

Well, that's the end. Again, I'd like to thank AMIADREAM for allowing me to write this. I know that it wasn't the best, and it certainly wasn't as good as Dream's story. I figure most sequels are like that. Still, if even one person got some enjoyment out of my little drabbles then I figure they served their purpose. Thanks for reading, because I enjoyed writing.


	5. Epilogue

I originally had no plans on putting this up here. It was just a little idea rattling around in my head, but a bunch of people at Spacebattles liked it when I posted it, so I decided that this would make a good epilogue. Thanks to all who've read and enjoyed, because I enjoyed writing this.

* * *

NERV Alaska: Aftermath

Epilogue

The city was insane.

That was the only explanation for it. Everyone in the city was completely insane, and he was starting on a worrying train of thought that the very city itself might be as well. It was a ridiculous thought, but it was making more and more sense, which lead him to believe that maybe it was affecting him also. He hadn't noticed it too much in the beginning, but looking back he could see all the signs were there. He could see it even now as he got off of work for the evening, leaving the bar where he worked as a bouncer and occasionally as a back up bartender.

Everybody seemed too relaxed, for starters. This was a city that was regularly attacked by monsters. Why was it so relaxed? Sure, the Evangelions had a magnificent track record with dealing with the Angels, but even then he expected to see more tension, some anxiety over the next potential attack. But there really wasn't any, on the whole. The city just seemed like most any other city.

The next thing he noticed were the men hidden everywhere. The city was crawling with people sneaking around, people with training. If you didn't know what to look for you'd never notice it, but he knew where to look and what to look for.

Related to that was all the hidden surveillance equipment. He had managed to find seven cameras and five microphones during the few days he had been there, all hidden outside and in the strangest places. The weirdest had been in the park, placed in a tree near one of the benches. He'd only managed to find that one when a flock of birds took flight and rattled the branches, allowing him to see the glint of metal.

But all this craziness was exactly why Marcus had come to Tokyo-3. This was the Kingdom of Ikari, the only place on Earth where SEELE's power was not completely absolute, aside from Australia. But he wasn't going anywhere near that hell hole. Here, he could hide, keep out of sight and hope that he wasn't worth the effort it would take to kill him inside the city when SEELE eventually found out where he had gone.

It grated on him, having to leave the investigation behind. He and Lawson had only found about half the puzzle pieces. They still didn't know exactly who in SEELE was responsible for the destruction of NERV Alaska, nor did they know much about the cult under SEELE's control that had done the deed. But they were just two people, and despite what Hollywood liked to put on the silver screen two people against hundreds, if not thousands, were not going to win. So he had run.

The Ikaris likely knew he was in the city already, but they hadn't contacted him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If they had no more use for him then if SEELE did decide to eliminate him chances were they'd just leave him flapping in the breeze. But the other side of the coin, if they did have a use for him, meant that he wasn't in control of his own fate.

But if they did have a use for him, he might be able to find out more about Dream's death...

He growled and pushed down that thought. He could spin the angles until the end of time and it wouldn't make any difference. He didn't have the resources or the information needed to influence anything anymore, and thinking about it too much just sent him into a depression.

He went through the front door of his ratty apartment complex and made his way for the elevator, intent on getting some decent sleep for once, when two small but incredibly strong hands reached out from a ceiling vent and pulled him inside.

His first reaction was to struggle, which did absolutely nothing. Whatever was holding him was significantly stronger than he was. And then it began to move, the speed of which incredibly alarming and almost knocked the wind out of him. The grip of the... thing, because there was no way something this strong and this fast could be human, was not painful, but clearly he wasn't going to be able to free himself. So he went limp and hoped that he could avoid getting a concussion from this unpleasant and terrifying experience.

After several minutes careening through the air vents, bumping only a few times along the way, Marcus was deposited through a grate and onto the floor. It wasn't that bad of a drop, and oddly enough there were some pillows there for him to land on. It took him a few seconds to orientate himself, taking in the strange surroundings and the multiple liquid filled containers, but as soon as he cleared his head he jumped to his feet and drew his gun.

Which was promptly snatched from his fingers before he could blink.

"What the?"

"Heee~eeey now, it's kind of rude to point guns at your hosts, you know?"

Across from him, just a few feet away, was a young woman with pale, blue hair and red eyes. She was holding his gun, looking at it absentmindedly and smiling. That smile reminded Marcus of some kind of predator animal. She was dressed in some kind of strange, skin tight green outfit that hid absolutely nothing, leaving little for the imagination.

"You have good reflexes, though. Most people don't recover that fast from a trip through the vents."

It was the same voice that had said that, but it wasn't the girl across from him who had spoken. He looked up to see an identical face up in the grate. The girl pushed off and landed gracefully next to the other one. She was wearing the exact same kind of outfit.

"Ughh, commercial brand. I mean, it's alwaaa~aays a good idea to have lots of guns, but this kind of thing is way too small! It's so bland! You need something with more kick!"

"And more boom!" the other exclaimed.

"What... What are you?"

Their eyes seemed to glow, and Marcus wasn't entirely sure it was a trick of the light.

"I'm Hatchi!" said the one still holding his gun.

"And I'm Nana. Siyon reee~aally wanted to meet you, cause you do the sneaking stuff and she does the sneaking stuff, but we gots to do some serious stuff now, so she'll have to wait."

That statement did not reassure Marcus in any way, shape or form, and he briefly wondered if he could pull his secondary gun from his ankle holster before the two of them reacted. In the end he decided against it. If these girls could move as fast as he thought they could then they could take him out long before he managed to draw his weapon.

"Okay," he said evenly, trying to stay calm and only managing marginal success. He figured he'd push his luck a little and see what he could find out. "Next question. Where am I?"

"Fraid we can't tell you that."

"Yeah, cause this place is super secret, and Little Mommy would be really mad if she found out we snuck someone in here. Like, miming mad. Nobody wants to see Little Mommy miming mad."

"Fine, then why am I here?"

The smiles slipped, and both of them took on a serious, sorrowful expression. It seemed odd, on those faces. Marcus figured that these two typically didn't have much cause for feeling sadness.

"We had a friend who was really cool."

"Yeah, he helped us think up all kinds of awesome stuff that exploded!"

"But he's gone now. A few days before he went he sent us a data burst that contained a locked file, asking us not to crack it open. A few days after he died it opened up, and we got a message."

"It's for you."

They motioned toward a computer terminal, but Marcus didn't move. No, he couldn't move. Dream, they had to be talking about Dream! His thoughts raced around in confusion. Dream had left something for him? Why? Had he known something of what was going to happen? Had he known that he and Jack would have gotten involved? But then how were these people related to him?

These thoughts and more trailed through his mind, but overpowering all of them was a renewed sense of loss. This drove home, again, that one of his best friends was dead. He wanted to see his friend's final message to him, but at the same time he was too scared too move.

A gentle tugging on his hand broke him free of these thoughts. He looked down to see the one without his gun, the one who had grabbed him into the air vent, gently holding his hand and pulling. There wasn't any real force behind it, just a subtle urgency.

"Come on," she said softly.

Marcus let himself be led to the terminal and sat down. He waited for a few seconds before the screen flickered on, showing the the tired face of his friend. He was smiling a small, sad smile. The image made Marcus's breath catch. This was real, this was really happening. His friend had left him one last message before the end.

_"Hello, Mark. If you're watching this then that means the worst has happened, and I am dead. You're probably really confused right now, but I'm sorry to say that I don't have all the answers. I can tell you a few things, though."_

Dream ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

_"Things have been really rough here, and I'm starting to think it wasn't all just an accident. There are too many coincidences, and they're starting to form a pattern. I'm not sure what that pattern is just yet, but I know there is a will behind it. If you're watching this, then you've gotten involved and looked into why I died. Jack's probably been helping you, as well."_

The man smiled, and this time it was filled with genuine warmth. It took Marcus a second to remember how to breathe. It had been a long time since he had seen his friend's face, seen him talk instead of just listening over a telephone. But he knew that this wasn't his friend, not really, and he felt a coldness in his chest. It all just reminded him, with no mission or goal to distract him, that his friend was gone.

_"That's good. I've always been sad that you two ended your friendship on such bad terms, so I hope you two have gotten past some of your issues. I've always felt that if you two could just talk to each other again, depend on each other for a while, that you'd get over the events that drove you apart. I hope this is the case._

_"If you're involved, then no doubt you've managed to uncover a lot of the bigger picture. But if I'm right, then the adversary you're dealing with is huge, powerful beyond belief. You must have figured that out too, if you've come to Tokyo-3. You've always gone the subtle way with things, Marcus, and that's good. Everybody needs something to ground them, and you were our anchor back in college. But sometimes, Mark, the time for subtlety ends. This is for those times."_

There was a hissing noise. Marcus looked to the side and saw the wall opening up. His jaw dropped as he saw the contents within.

_"You always did prefer the marines in those games we used to play,"_ Dream said with a grin.

Inside was a huge, robotic thing resembling some kind of armor. Its arms were thicker than Marcus's legs, and its legs were almost as thick as his waist. It was easily over seven feet tall, thickly armored and painted blue. It had a helmet with two red, synthetic eyes and a mouth that looked like some kind of breathing apparatus. On its thickly armored chest were two small lights embedded into the metal, and its back had some kind of pack with what looked like small, round rockets on the sides. It's hands were too huge for anything human to fit into them, completely robotic with no space inside for anything and proportioned to the size of the rest of the armor. And finally, on its shoulders, were huge shoulder guards that made the thing even more imposing, if that was even possible.

_"I present the Mondschein Mark 4 Tactical Battle Armor! I've always played around with the idea, but there've always been other things to do and to be frank, my initial designs weren't worth much. But I've spent a lot of my free time working on this, my fourth design, and it's really shown through. It has its own internal power, rocket assisted jumping capability, and can take anything ground forces can throw at it without flinching! Well, besides rockets or tanks, of course. But it'll shrug off small arms fire like it isn't even there, and you can flip over a car with it. I sent this message, and the designs, to my two friends here and asked them to build it for you. I asked them not to alter anything too much, and for the most part I think they will have done so. They're really very nice young ladies, just a little eccentric is all."_

Dream leaned forward, his face filling the screen.

_"This is for you, Mark, when the time for subtlety is done and you're out of options. I may be gone, but I'll be damned if I let a little thing like that prevent me from helping you when you need it! When the time comes, use the armor."_

Dream leaned back, resting his hands on the desk he was recording from.

_"Good luck, buddy."_

The image faded out, and Marcus noticed a dampness on his cheeks. He brushed away the tears quickly, but the feeling remained. His friend had thought of him in those final days, thought of what he might do and the trouble he might get in to. Marcus couldn't describe how he felt, not really. He was sad, yet he was also incredibly touched. The two mixed together into something very strange and unusual for him.

He got up and examined the armor. The thing truly was a monster, and Marcus had to wonder at what point such a thing would really be necessary. Then he remembered that girl back in Canada that had almost killed him so casually. Yes, he could see uses for such a thing, but it had to be used carefully. Going off on a rampage in it would be pointless, and even worse it would be dangerous.

He had completely forgotten the two girls who had brought him here, but they hadn't forgotten him. Marcus was reminded he wasn't alone when he felt a strong, demanding pull on his arm that almost took him off his feet.

"Come on! We want to show you the weapons we made for it!"

Marcus gave a nervous, and only slightly forced, smile and let the girls lead him around this strange place that was apparently their home and came back to what he had been thinking back before his abduction. Yes, Tokyo-3 was completely insane. But you know, that wasn't such a bad thing, in the end.

* * *

I've always loved the idea of powered armor. It's always been such a neat concept to me, and I love that we're getting closer to that in real life. The thing that sparked this little drabble was a Starcraft 2 trailer. The armor for Marcus is like a mix of Warhammer 40K Space Marine and Starcraft Terran Marine armor. I keep getting this awesome image in my head of Marcus in the armor duking it out with Emil who's wearing his own twelve-foot power armor that looks something like the Iron Monger armor from Iron Man.

So, I hope you enjoyed it. It was fun to write.


End file.
